Clandestine Win — Hunger Games Edition
by Raven of the Shadows
Summary: He is Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle always wins.


**Clandestine Win — Hunger Games Edition**

 **—** ooo **—**

" _On the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, as a reminder to the rebels that their children die each year because of their choice to initiate violence, every district will hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."_

Quarter Quell. Another fancy name for Capitol entertainment. Another torture for the districts. For him, they are simply two words that mean nothing.

He knows what the escort will announce well before she puts her hand in the huge glass bowl containing the lone slip with the voted name written on it. When his name is called out, not even a single whisper is there. No relieved sighs; no surprised gasps. Apparently, his district is more than happy to let him die in the arena.

He likes to think they believe he will win and return home.

* * *

The Capitol has decided to punish District Seven for the timber lost due to rotting in the trees this year. The two tributes are to be dressed in withered trees instead of the lush-green tree costume District Seven has worn for the past twenty-four years.

The plan backfires.

When District Seven chariot rolls into sight, not a single eye wavers from the dark and regal boy — man — looking haunting and dangerous. Untouchable, unstoppable, unearthly he seems, the black, leafless branches seemingly alive as the chariot moves on. He might be dressed as a tree from the nightmares, and when he smiles, it is menacing yet magnetic. He is horror personified.

The one thing that smile speaks loud and clear is this: the blue-eyed, dark-haired lanky boy from District Seven will not wither away in these games.

* * *

The interviews seem rather dull as they start off; not even the Career Tributes manage to hold the audience' attention, and the newly appointed host, Caesar Flickerman, is under immense pressure, for the Capitol doesn't want to be bored to death, no pun intended.

But the boring stops being boring when the first tribute from District Seven is called. _He_ is whom the crowd had been waiting for; he seems to captivate them the moment he steps on stage, the audience comes out alive when he bows to them.

Caesar's attempts at conversation are shot down with one worded answers, and the host has almost given up when he asks the Tribute about his earlier life and why he was voted upon by his District.

The story then unfurls.

A female child born to the family of the District's snake charmers.  
The girl neglected by father and shunned by brother — the only family she had.  
The young snake-charmer woman charmed by a man who did not care for her.  
The woman subtly drugging the man into seeming-love.  
The man leaving when the woman gets pregnant and stops drugging him in hopes he would return her love truly.  
The woman dying while giving birth to a baby boy.  
The boy growing up in the community home and coming to know of his lineage when the last of the snake charmer family is dead.

The young boy taking up the job of leading snakes out of the lumberjacks' work area at the age of seven, only to be shipped off to the Games for he did not have any family to care for him.

The buzzer to the three-minutes up cuts the deafening silence, the audience suddenly realising they have appendages to wipe off the tears streaking down their cheeks.

And as the young man who has pulled at their heartstrings stands, the whispers wishing him luck arise from the crowds, echoed by Caesar as he says, "May the odds ever be in your favour!"

* * *

 _Sixty . . . Fifty-nine . . . Fifty-eight . . ._

A number of eyes are drawn to where the District Seven's male tribute's are fixed. His lips curl into the slightest of smirks as he looks at the golden object glinting in the sun, ten feet ahead of him.

 _Forty-three . . . Forty-two . . . Forty-one . . ._

The whispers are rising in the capitol and in the Districts. ' _Scandal,'_ say some, while the others are just waiting on, anticipations high about this twist the Gamemakers have brought.

 _Three . . . Two . . . One . . ._

Exactly two seconds after the cannon blasts off, his fingers curl around the golden object, and he walks away from the Cornucopia and the Bloodbath, empty handed but for what he picked.

That night, after the anthem plays, he starts playing _his_ games. Two in the first night, five in second, three in third. The Games are over, swift yet enthralling, the colourful snakes following the pied-piper like hypnotised mice and acting to his bidding.

The profit for those who bet on him is low because of the sheer number of people who decided to do so, but people are happy for him; they believe he deserves one win after all he has lived through.

They know not of the countless wins that are yet to fall in his feet.

* * *

The tapes for Quarter Quell vanish mysteriously a month after the victory tour. When the new Games come to, he is already given a backseat in people's minds.

He lurks in the shadows and plots.

* * *

President Gellalbus' (said natural) death weeks after the twenty-sixth Victor is crowned has the Capitol in chaos. But the Capitol recovers fast, and the Victors — the Capitol darlings — are called to nominate the President candidates for this would be the first election after the Hunger Games started, and the Capitol, despite its fast recovery, seems unable to make a choice on its own.

And despite the latest Victor being around, _he_ , the victor of the first Quarter-Quell, that the Capitolites, is once again on the frontlines.

When he nominates Coriolanus Snow, a man who has risen surprisingly fast in the past few months, the result is almost unanimous.

Coriolanus Snow is crowned the President, and from the shadows, _he_ claims another win for his own.

* * *

 _Poison_ — that is what is exposed by Finnick Odair when the revolution is at its peak. _He_ laughs. The word is _venom_ , but what do they know.

Admittedly, _he_ loves this revolution that is happening. Things had started to get repetitive for his tastes, and _he_ thrives in newness. A smile cuts across his face as he examines his new body — a gift of the Capitol technology — one another time.

Yes, _he_ thrives in newness.

And when Coriolanus Snow falls, crimson blood pouring out of the countless wounds from the mob, he grins. The pawn that fell was old, and there will always be another candidate to take his place, and _he_ will still be the one winning.

* * *

"You're not the boss of me," says Commander Paylor when _he_ decides to pay her a visit a few weeks after she is voted in. He laughs.

A few days later, she is in the hospital for (supposedly) food poisoning, and her still-weak-from-war body gives up before the Capitol medicine can do any good.

* * *

 _He_ watches the television screen come to life, same as the screens all over the country. _He_ trails a finger down the head of his newest pet, Nagini, and watches.

" _On the hundredth anniversary of the Hunger Games, as a reminder to the people that illusions shatter, every district will hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it in the Hundredth Hunger Games."_

He smiles at the television. Those fools don't know, _he_ is the puppetmaster of their lives. _He_ is Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle always wins.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 1250

 **Prompts used:**

From Hogwarts Houses Competition - Bonus Round 1

• Crossover — Hunger Games  
• "You're not the boss of me."  
• Crimson blood


End file.
